


nothing hurts like no you

by babykanima



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Mama Stilinski Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-22 00:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babykanima/pseuds/babykanima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hundreds of letters in matching periwinkle envelopes span the thoughts his mother knew he needed to hear and knew she wouldn't be there to tell him. </p><p>There’s not a letter for WHEN YOUR BEST FRIEND TURNS INTO A WEREWOLF. </p><p>He checked.</p><p>Twice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing hurts like no you

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Ничто не ранит так, как то, что нет тебя](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1328497) by [Oberhofer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oberhofer/pseuds/Oberhofer)



> i'm so sorry. i just needed it out of my head.
> 
> unfortunately, the sterek in this is kind of minimal, barely there even, but i wanted to tag it anyways just in case.
> 
> oh, also; come and [ visit me ](http://clintssecretfamily.tumblr.com/)

He's eleven and still kind of in shock when he reads the first letter; it still smells like her, like almonds and paint and he thinks maybe she started writing this before she started smelling a little less like her and a little more like the hospital.  
  
AFTER THE FUNERAL it says.  
  
His dad finds him hours later, beside his bed and struggling to breathe.

* * *

The hundreds of letters in matching periwinkle envelopes span the thoughts his mother knew he needed to hear and knew she wouldn't be there to tell him.

After reading that first one (‘just breathe, baby. it’s okay, it’s just the next step, baby. i love you) his dad refuses to be in the same room as them. They break his heart.  
  
Some are just a sentence or two, a quote to make him smile, a few lyrics that fit the situation written on the front of the envelope (there are lots of The Beatles and The Cars and his mum was so _cool_ ); some are pages and pages of curly writing, advice, threats and acknowledgments. The smaller, inconsequential letters make him smile more often than not because they're so _her_. 

It takes a while, years actually. Years and panic attacks and a lot of time spent alone and sad, but eventually reading them stops hurting and instead help him remember the woman he remembers he being before the chemo and the hospital. His beautiful mother who used to always lose her hair clips and so instead perfected a way to use her favorite pencil as a hair ornament. She used to have to redo her hair a hundred times a day because she’d always pull the pencil out to sketch or write or poke him with. His wonderful mother who burnt everything she tried to cook for him and his amazing mother who had the world’s funniest, loudest, most embarrassingly _her_ laugh.

It takes a while before he can read them without thinking he's going to die.

* * *

WHEN YOU DECIDE TO TAKE UP SMOKING (you've got to be kidding me).

  
WHEN YOU GET ARRESTED FOR THE FIRST TIME (it was bound to happen eventually, baby. is your dad sheriff yet? because _awkward_ ).

  
WHEN YOU FINALLY REALISE LACROSSE IS A TERRIBLE SPORT (go for track, baby. or baseball or the photography club).

  
WHEN YOU GO TO YOUR FIRST SCHOOL DANCE (do not mack on your date unless they mack on you first and even then, only if you want it. they're allowed to say no but so are _you_ ).

  
WHEN YOUR HEART GETS BROKEN (grab some alcohol, baby. grab a lot of alcohol. lock away your phone because they are not worth the embarrassment. now; cry).  
  
WHEN YOU MISS ME - this one has been read the most, the writing is faded and there are dried tear marks all over and he will never, ever stop reading it.  
  
(when you miss me, baby, look in the mirror. realise you're walking around with me every day. you've got my eyes and my hair. my moles and my nose. you've got my laugh, baby, and if you don't mind my saying it is a damn gorgeous laugh so make sure you show it off a little, okay?  
  
when you miss me, baby, remember how i used pull you into my lap and kiss your face and realise i probably wouldn't be able to do that now anyway, even if i was there. i bet you're six feet tall, now. am i right? remember you loved it while it lasted and let it go. just let go of the sadness, baby. you might look beautiful when you're sad but when you smile? there are no words for your smile, baby, and if you make it my fault i've deprived the world of it, i'll come back to haunt your ass.  
  
when you miss me, baby; go and have a wank. that'll get your mind off it.  
  
laughing yet? i love you.)

* * *

He makes the rules when he’s young. When he’s hopped up on Adderal and his hands are shaking and he’s staring at the shoebox full of letters and wanting to tear his hair out because he wants to know everything she’s ever thought, wants to know the woman he only knows parts of because she’d died so young, only twenty seven because she’d been barely nineteen when she had him, nineteen and full of hope and love and completely stupid over a guy nearly ten years her senior who would one day become the town sheriff. But more than he wants to know her now, straight away, all at once; he wants the feeling to _last_ so he sticks to the rules.

He only opens the letters when he _needs_ them, when he needs her, because he wants to be fifty and still surprised by her.

* * *

Some he suspects he’ll never open, ones like WHEN YOUR DAD STARTS TO MOVE ON (don't let him second guess himself, let him be happy) or WHEN YOU DECIDE TO BECOME AN ACCOUNTANT (you are _breaking my heart_ ) and he thinks maybe, possibly, one day he’ll open them and find out what she thinks of those things, but not until they happen, he thinks.

Not _unless_ they happen.

* * *

There’s not a letter for WHEN YOUR BEST FRIEND TURNS INTO A WEREWOLF.

He checked.

Twice.

* * *

His mom was amazing, really. She’d had him in her first year of college and hadn’t let that stop her. She’d gotten her diploma only a few months late and held him tight while she walked across the stage; the photograph doesn’t lie. His eyes always manage to catch it when he walks down the hall, her – smiling and winking, a rolled up diploma in one hand and a chubby, blurred from movement Stiles curled protectively against her side.

She’d absolutely _loved_ that photo.

Those are the things people told him about, after the funeral but before the first letter; “Your mom was determined.” They had grinned. “So brave.”

Those are the things other people remember about her.

Her letters told him about the music festivals and her first lesbian experience, about the fact she’d had the opportunity to leave Beacon Hills forever but had instead come home to his dad because _of course_ she’d meet the love of her life a week before she leaves for college, that was _so_ her.

Her letters told him about how she hadn’t slept properly for weeks after watching The Evil Dead and of her fear of animals that can camouflage themselves because once she’d picked a flower to put in her hair that turned out to have a stick insect on it and it had crawled across her face and kind of scarred her for life.

His mom was so much more amazing than a lot of people know, he thinks every time he reads more about her life.

And these are the things he wants to remember her for.

* * *

Sometime between heart-stopping heroics and panic attacks while treading water, he looks over at the shoebox, at the letter he thinks maybe he’ll need to open soon. The one with the five words that terrify him completely because WHEN YOU FIND THE ONE sounds so _final_ , like a death sentence; more than the horrifically literal things in his life now that are _actual_ death sentences.

In the meantime, he opens another twenty or so letters;

WHEN YOU WANT TO PUNCH THEM (thumb on the outside, baby).

WHEN YOU HAVE SEX (you better have used protection. i’m serious. i will _haunt_ you if you were stupid.)

WHEN YOU APPLY TO COLLEGE (apply everywhere but make sure you visit nyu, pop into my old dorm room and see if it still smells like dumplings and pot. bet you anything it does.)

WHEN YOU FEEL ALONE (want to hear something cool? you are never, ever alone. your body is filled with demodex, bacteroides, endolimax and thousands of thousands of other sorts of bacteria. you are literally, never ever alone. oh, and of course i’m with you in spirit or whatever but doesn’t the bacteria sound cooler? now go eat a whole pie and watch some crappy horror movies until you feel better, okay?)

* * *

It’s not until after the Alpha Pack, after the Argents leave, after his dad is home and safe and _hearing_ what he’s saying and not just listening to him, that he finally gets the courage to open the letter he’s been dreading.

WHEN YOU FIND THE ONE (everything they do will be amazing. or annoying, or hell, _both_. do they prefer ketchup or mustard on their hotdogs? do they play an instrument? do they know all the words to grease 2? you’ll want to memorize all the stupid, insignificant things about them because you should know by now that those stupid insignificant things make them _amazing_. you fell in love with those stupid, insignificant things, baby. and you’ll want to write it down or retell it over and over but don't do that, baby ‘cause it's a little creepy. you do _not_ want to be creepy about the one you love.

i expect they'll _break your heart_ with just their _presence_ , baby. enjoy it, _savor_ it. some people spend their whole lives never experiencing something like that; i was lucky enough to have it with your dad).

He grins and wonders whether or not Derek prefers ketchup or mustard on his hotdogs.

 

 


End file.
